Not Eating to Win

I've consumed 560 calories today and it's been a complete catalyst. I'm not exactly sure what part the food restriction played but today I was finally honest with Baltar about my feelings, I cried like a baby, and I got my period. Finally, on three counts!

I'm hungry but I'm clear. Intuition steered me to look closer at a NY Times article published earlier this year about a lifestyle movement based on paleolithic humans. My body has been fighting me for months and I wanted a solution that simply "made me feel human again." I ended up researching the theory of alternate day fasting and the effect is has on metabolism and liked what I was reading. As human animals, it is unnecessary to consume the exact same number of calories each day, rather we are programmed to deal with periods of hunger followed by satiety. When we eat a drastically reduced number of calories one day, followed by normal eating the next, we are stimulating SIRT1, a gene that extends the life of our cells. Resveratrol, the compound in red wine, also stimulates this gene. By alternating days, the body doesn't go into starvation mode, which destroys the metabolism.

To me, not eating more than a few hundred calories in day has the added benefit of taking my mind off food. I usually cook rather elaborate meals for just simple me, as I love the beauty of putting together dishes that offer the most color, nutrients, antioxidants and taste. But that ritual leaves me constantly thinking about food. I'm starting this food cycling program of one day 500 calories, the next a normal amount, to try and reset my thyroid and my metabolism.

I have an appointment with a nutritionist/acupuncturist tomorrow morning to review my blood work and help me further. Her intake was 12 pages of extremely personal questions so I'm hoping she delivers.

I'll conclude with a photo of a waterfall from my kitchen window:


Aloha.

"Baby, your boobs aren't big enough to use them as storage."

Today's woes actually began last night, when Baltar kicked me off his spaceship. What can I do? I am unlovable in my distance, both spiritual and physical.

Today began with new hope. Sun! The sun finally appeared, the Kauai Tourism Board exhaled, and tourists got happy and started spending money again. When the weather's shitty, the tourists get resentful of giving such an uncooperative island any cash and the service industry acutely suffers.

I took the opportunity to relax around the apartment until mid-morning, instead of my usual sprint out the door at 7:30am, trying to get in four miles before the rain started for the day. Around ten I drove down to Hanalei Bay and parked at the patch of beach known as "Grandpas." No one can tell me why it's called that, but the entire island knows it as such. There's also Kiddies, Black Pot, Pine Trees, and Bathrooms. But I like Grandpas. I don't know if that's possessive or not. Grandpa's? Do the Grandpa's own the beach? Grandpa's Beach? Or Grandpas plural, just lots of old guys.

Anyway, in preparation for my chug along the bay, I dropped the key to my car in my sports bra. I have used this trick since high school. It's always the bra drop or the shoe tie and since I was running barefoot, I had no choice.

Forty minutes later, the key is gone, and I'm a hot sweaty mess, trying desperately not to look quite so bedraggled, as I'm going to need to turn on the charm. I call my friend Renee. Her advice is first, "Baby, your boobs aren't big enough to use them as storage." And then she offers her husband to drop me in Princeville in an hour and a half. Hmmm... I call a couple more people and get voicemail. Hmmm... Hello surfers! I managed to get a shirtless beauty over to break into my car with a single sad look, but once in, I have no way to turn the engine. Hmmm... Hello beach bum!

I approach the nearest one who I know lives in his van, offer $20 and the chance to experience an actual woman in his passenger seat, and we're off to P'ville. Until the goddamn muffler falls off his car and we spend 40 minutes attending to it. Well, he attended, I took sneaky photos of the ordeal. See me in the reflection?


Get back to Grandpas, grab a smoothie, go to the farmer's market, get home and throw some laundry in, take a well-deserved shower, put laundry in the dryer...

"Goddamn it!!!" I put my new high-tech acne machine through the wash. My brand new, just paid $100 for Zeno. OK, obviously today's woes have been put into motion by my prematurely geriatric mind and I have to address it. What would Marion do? She would lecture me on amino acids and evening primrose oil. I went to Foodland, purchased two organic chicken breasts, baked them and had half of one over a salad for dinner. What would Mom do? Drink and go to bed. OK, evening sorted.

Aloha.

Tsunami Saturday left-overs

I just selected my profile picture and after glancing through the past year on iPhoto, nothing quite sums up the past 6 months as a picture of me looking bedraggled, confused, and in an obviously Kauai setting. I'm like the big, red, haole giant of the north shore, trying to fit in and yet still hold on to some semblance of the city girl I was 6 months ago.

We had a tsunami warning on Saturday and friends from Hanalei were evacuated and came and hung out with me in high and dry Princeville. They brought what food they could score from Foodland on their way over: Oreos, stoned wheat thins, brie, bourbon, and radishes. On their departure they took all the good stuff and left me with the radishes.

Radishes?

So tonight I lopped off the little radish balls and made soup with the greens.

Aloha.